


Cramped Smelly Boxes

by chocolatedisco



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatedisco/pseuds/chocolatedisco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leatherhead needs an answer. TMNT 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cramped Smelly Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this because my friends bullied me into it but I wound up enjoying it a lot. Heads up for some intelligence based insults.

His candles lit and his music playing, Leatherhead tries to let conscious thought drift away. Usually he can bring his hatred to a whisper in the background and exist in the closest thing to peace he knows. But suddenly, his life is complicated, and thoughts of Michelangelo repeat in his mind endlessly as though thinking them over and over will bring him an answer.

He knows what draws him to Michelangelo. Michelangelo is what he imagines sunlight to be like. Bright, if sometimes blindingly so, yet warming everything it touches. He is always bringing new culinary creations, genuinely seeking Leatherhead’s opinion; Leatherhead almost wishes he didn’t find them all so appetizing so he would have something to tell him other than that they are delicious. And despite the scorn of his family, he continues to come and visit almost every day. Leatherhead has never known a truer friend.

The problem is that he cannot fathom what draws Michelangelo to him. He has told Michelangelo the entire story of his life, so he cannot reciprocate as Michelangelo tells tales old and new of his family and his adventures. He has no talent whose fruits he can share, only an ill-fated attempt at singing to his lone record. And worst of all, he has lost control in Michelangelo’s presence far too many times. He is not only unworthy of Michelangelo’s time, but an incredible danger to him. The topic comes up nearly every time they speak, and every time, Michelangelo insists he needs no reason to be Leatherhead’s friend.

His meditation, if he can even call it such, is interrupted by Michelangelo’s presence coming to rest behind him. He is completely silent, which Leatherhead knows is very difficult for him; another consideration he does not deserve. “You’re not interrupting,” he says as he begins to turn around.

“Aww. Thought I was being totally stealthy.” He flops against one of the walls, deflated. But just as quickly, he perks up, presenting Leatherhead with a plastic container. “Mac and cheese! I know, way unadventurous, but that’s what April brought ingredients for. I reheated it and ran over as fast as I could so it should still be pretty warm.”

“Thank you. I’m sure it will taste just as wonderful as everything you bring me.” He carefully opens the lid of the container, and the comforting smell of cheese he’s come to associate with Michelangelo wafts up towards him. The only thing better than the smell is the taste, so he takes a bite, and is not disappointed. He’s never known great food, so it’s possible Michelangelo’s is not as delightful as it seems, but he believes it is nonetheless. “It’s delicious.”

“Sweet! Chez Mikey opens to rave reviews.” Leatherhead takes a few more bites, Michelangelo watching him chew, but the thoughts that plague him are not considerate enough to allow him a break to eat. He sets the container aside, and Michelangelo looks at him with concern. “What’s up? Tummyache?”

“You must be tired of hearing it, but I need to understand why you keep coming here,” he says, looking Michelangelo in the eye. He doesn’t know how else to get the answer he’s seeking.

“Cause you’re my friend! Friends hang out. Unless Sensei taught me reeeeaaaally bad.” Michelangelo smiles when he answers, and it just makes Leatherhead feel like Michelangelo isn’t taking him seriously.

“I mean it, Michelangelo. You... are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says, and at that Michelangelo looks a little surprised. “But I cannot continue like this! It’s excruciating, knowing that you are so important to me and not knowing why I am the least bit important to you.” For a long moment, Michelangelo is silent. Leatherhead can’t tell what he’s thinking about, and it’s scary.

“Sorry, dude. I didn’t know I was hurting your feelings,” he finally speaks.

“It’s fine. You had no way of knowing. I just... can’t go on without an answer.”

“Yeah, I got one. I’m just trying to figure out how to say it without sounding like a jerk.” He scratches the back of his head. Leatherhead’s somewhat shocked at the idea of Michelangelo sounding cruel, but if he is worried about it, it must be a possibility.

“Take your time,” he says, and Michelangelo does, giving his answer what seems like a tremendous amount of thought.

“Okay. So, you probably noticed I’m not the sharpest guy around. Like, I’m always screwing something up.” Leatherhead nearly denies it, but when he gives it thought, a lot of the stories Michelangelo tells involve him making some sort of mistake. He’s never really noticed before. “And I get that I’m kind of a pain. I’m slow, I need stuff explained to me a bunch of times, I’m bad at paying attention. I’m pretty stupid.”

“I wouldn’t put it--” Leatherhead starts, but Mikey reaches up and closes his mouth.

“Shh. Storytime. Where was I? Oh yeah, I’m stupid. And I get that. Like, whatever, you know? I’m good at other stuff, like creative stuff and hugs and beating up aliens. But my brothers don’t see it the same way, I guess. They call me an idiot and a moron and stuff pretty much all the time. And it’s true, but everyone... talks like I can’t hear them. And they say really mean stuff sometimes. Even Sensei does it. I know they love me deep down, and I love them too, but it still hurts. Real bad,” his voice trembles. It’s the most unusual sound Leatherhead has ever heard from him.

“I’m sorry,” is all he can think to say.

“Uh, not done!” he returns to his usual self just as fast as when he’d arrived. “As I was saying, and then there’s you.”

“Me?”

“No one else here, man! Even with me telling you about all the times I messed up, you never even thought any bad stuff about me, I bet.” Leatherhead’s look of surprise tells him all he needs to know, and he laughs at his mindreading achievement.

“Well... I suppose I just never thought to judge you for something you don’t control.” At that, Michelangelo’s look of triumph grows even bigger; Leatherhead realizes what he has said a moment too late.

“Oh man, you walked right into that one. So, you get it now? We’re these two radical dudes who get stuffed into these cramped smelly boxes by everyone. When it’s just us, we don’t gotta worry about that. It’s like we’re soulmates.” Leatherhead feels tears starting to well up in his eyes, and he takes a moment to wipe them away and collect himself so he can respond.

“I understand now. I’m sorry for raising my voice at you.”

“It’s cool. Do we hug now?”

“I... would like that,” he says, and that’s all it takes for Michelangelo to stand up and sort of lean forward in an awkward attempt to hug him. It’s equally awkward when Leatherhead tries to get his gigantic arms around Michelangelo, but somehow, it still feels right. Michelangelo was not exaggerating his hugging prowess; it lasts for a good half-minute, and when he finally pulls away, Leatherhead can still feel his warmth.

“Now eat your mac and cheese!” he orders. Leatherhead complies, picking up the container and taking another bite. It’s only lukewarm now, but somehow, it tastes even better.


End file.
